


Although our hands aren't tied, we move as though they are

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Community: femslash08, F/F, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-12
Updated: 2008-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for liz_estrada.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Although our hands aren't tied, we move as though they are

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to chachirinoda and fishy73

“ _(now the ears of my ears awake and  
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)_” – “I Thank You God,” ee cummings

\--

For a long time, Sydney doesn’t ask about Rachel’s past before The Shed, and she tells herself it’s because they just don’t have time, that what time they do have is too crucial. That they can’t sit around like school girls, chatting away the hours.

Still, it’s not the most rational of explanations. Especially when she has to eye Rachel down, the girl pretending to be occupied on Sydney’s couch as Sydney pretends to be occupied walking between the rooms. It’s not time that they don’t have. No, something deeper is eating away at Sydney’s synapses and it has nothing to do with the way Rachel’s eyelashes press against her cheek or the way the baby kicks when Rachel says hello. But she tells herself that its time. They don’t have time.

\--

She’s not exactly _pretty_ , Sydney thinks, readying for bed. The blue eyes are a bit much. And her breasts, well. Her hair is average, nothing special. Certainly, not model material. In fact, Rachel is a bit awkward, Sydney tells herself. Not at all stunning. Not at all cause for thighs rubbing together in the dark. Not at all cause for slick fingers moving, not at all the reason for slow, muffled gasps.

\--

It’s harder than she expected; sitting back while someone else does the work. Of course, it’s _all_ harder than she expected. She’s supposed to have trained to expect the worst, all scenarios. But she never anticipated this: pregnant with Vaughn’s baby, speaking into a microphone, words from the other end sending shivers down her sore spine. She never anticipated Rachel at all.

She tells herself it’s the strangeness of seeing a young woman – herself, practically – go through everything she had to, and she tells herself it’s a seven-year delayed mirror effect. That she sees herself in Rachel. That’s it.  
But she closes her eyes and sees her hand on Rachel’s shoulder, her eyes – then – traveling across the other woman’s body, gearing up for the mission. She should be reassuring, and she is, but her eyes. It’s good they have the mirror and Rachel’s anxiety between them.

She doesn’t see herself there, reflected. What she sees gives her a sharp intake of breath. She knows that she’s been lying to herself. But then, as she grips the back of the chair, steadying herself, she may have known that all along.

\--

It feels like sacrelidge, saying her name ( _Rachel_ ), fingers working, increasingly strained between belly and back pain. But it feels worse not to.

\--

Rachel seems surprised that Sydney is talking to her at all. “Before? My life was pretty boring, actually,” she blushes and turns away, assuming that the conversation is over.

Sydney takes a breath, sits down on the couch next to her – not too close, but not too far away. “Tell me,” she says, simply, leaning back, adjusting her increasingly awkward body against the pillows.

"There's nothing to tell, not really," Rachel replies, dodging the question, still. She looks into her lap, examining the papers she's been going over for the past hour. Sydney supposes Rachel thinks she's going to find something new there.

Now Sydney isn't sure what to do. Should she press the issue like she thinks they both want her to, or should she back off like she has been for the past six weeks and feel miserable for the rest of the day? She knows what her heart wants. She knows what her head wants, though she's established that she's been lying to herself.   
"Sometimes boring is what we want most, living this life. I know I miss it, some days." She thinks back to her life then, lugging books from class to class. Laughing with Danny. Ignorant of everything, save what the teachers told her in classrooms and what she saw on the news. She's lying again, but Rachel relaxes, visibly, a smile tugging at her lips.

"You haven't been reading these reports if you miss 'boring'," she quips, and Sydney is surprised, she feels her face react, her eyes widen, her lips spread in a smile. She didn't truly believe that Rachel was ready, that she had arrived. Maybe she hasn't been watching the girl's eyes close enough to see that the sadness has lessened.  
Sydney pats her stomach. "They've cut my reading load. Apparently being pregnant has it's advantages." She doesn't think about the advantages she doesn't have, such as being in the field with Rachel, or pouring over documents, late-night planning sessions, single light bulbs, clutching close in CIA safe houses. She doesn't plan for a time, months later, when the baby will be born and she'll be back to boring, or some semblance of normal, and Rachel will have to find a life of her own and maybe, just maybe, it will include her.

"It certainly suits you. Pregnancy, I mean." Rachel flushes. She shuffles her papers. "You look lovely." It's the closest she's come to making an overture, Sydney thinks, turning a bit pink herself. She blames the heat, she blames the baby. She knows the truth.

She reaches forward, awkward, pulls the papers from Rachel's lap, and sets them on the coffee table. "Tell me about your life before. And not just the technicalities." Sydney pauses, leans back, settles. "Tell me about you."  
Rachel fidgets, gets up from the couch in a flurry of motion. She retreats to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, searching for something, bending to examine the shelves. She comes up empty, turns to Sydney, smiles. "Well." She takes a breath. "We were never allowed to have pets - my brother, sister and I. So, sometimes, when we were little, Rebecca and Zachary would pretend to be dogs or cats, and I would pick them out at the pet store, and..." she trails off. "You don't care about this... it's just a stupid kid story."

Sydney shakes her head, trying to find a smile in all of her wonderment. "No, no." She licks her lips, rests her hands on top of her belly, lolls her head back slightly. "What about college? What did you want to do before Gordon Dean found you?"

Rachel pinks. "You make it sound like I was some kind of stray." She presses her hands against the countertop. "I was thinking about accounting," she shrugs, "but my girl- my friend kept suggesting international business." She looks away, swallowing quickly. "So, I was considering that too."

Sydney watches her silently for a moment before breaking the silence. "I was, if you would believe it, planning on being a teacher." She smiles, slightly bitter. Wondering. Still, part of her catches Rachel's slip. And a part of her wonders again what will happen in the coming weeks, months, days.

"You would have made a good one," Rachel says quietly, hardly speaking. Sydney doesn't reply, doesn't smile in return. She isn't so sure. She isn't sure of anything these days.


End file.
